


Occupational Hazards

by Myrime



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Iron Dad, M/M, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, dad tony, iron man bingo 3000, spiderson, super family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: It is merely by coincidence that Steve and Tony find out that their son is Spider-Man. Once the initial yelling is over, they might even admit they are proud of him.





	Occupational Hazards

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: Super Family: Spider-Man Identity Reveal

“We need to go home.”

Steve, who was just about to take a sip of his terribly complicated coffee, pauses and looks at Tony, confused. Their coffee dates are sacred and not to be interrupted by anything. Tony’s office has learned to not – under any circumstances – call him when he is out for lunch with Steve, and even Pepper keeps any emergencies for afterwards. One hour every Wednesday is their time, and they do not let it be ruined by anything.

Now, however Tony is staring at the screen hanging over the counter at the café they have chosen, unmoved and face grim. When Steve turns around to look at it, he almost expects another alien invasion or something of an equal attitude that would require their immediate attention, although the Avengers alarm should have gone off already in that case. What he sees does not help with his confusion at all.

The footage is from Central Park, where a reporter is talking in the foreground. Behind her, Spider-Man is visible, swinging merrily. There is no fight, not even a sign of any trouble brewing. Yet, Tony keeps staring as if they are witnessing the beginning of the apocalypse.

“That’s Spider-Man,” Steve says slowly, wondering what essential point he is missing. “It does not look like he’s in trouble. And he wasn’t exactly keen on our help the last time we tried.”

Steve has to admit that had stung a little. Spider-Man is young and, as far as they know, out there all alone. He might not be taking on any of the more dangerous villains haunting New York, but things can turn bad very quickly. It is always good to have some allies. Yet, the friendly neighbourhood hero had basically fled as soon as they attempted to speak to him, yelling something along the lines of not needing them. It might just be all right, but Steve cannot help that he is a worrier.

“Look at what he’s carrying,” Tony says through clenched teeth.

Steve does as he is bid. True enough, Spider-Man is carrying something, but it is just – “A bag. Tony,” Steve frowns, contemplating for a brief moment to sniff at the coffee in case someone is trying to poison them, “What’s gotten into you?”

“And what,” Tony says with rising tension, “is on the bag?”

The footage is not the best, but Steve has good eyesight, so he squints at the screen. Two colourful dots adorn the dark cloth. “Some kind of – oh,” Steve exclaims in realization. “These are an Iron Man and a Captain America badge.” He knows them because Peter has them too. Frowning, he inclines his head at Tony. “It looks pretty similar to –”

“Peter’s bag.” Tony nods as if this is what he has been trying to say all this time “Exactly.”

When Tony does not look any more satisfied at Steve having solved the riddle but is still uncharacteristically tense for their lunch break, Steve wonders what he is still missing.

“So what?” he asks. “It’s not like this _is_ Peter’s bag. Spider-Man is a fan, that’s all.”

Which makes his reluctance to work with them or at least let them help out at times a little strange, but that could be simple shyness in the face of actually meeting them.

“I’m saying that it is a pretty strange coincidence that the young superhero with the familiar speech pattern and the strict four-to-eight patrol time is carrying our son’s bag around.”

Now it is Steve’s turn to stare. He wonders what Tony means with the familiar speech pattern but now that he is thinking about it, Spider-Man – on the _one_ occasion they talked – sounded familiar. That he is apparently working on a schedule is not that strange either. Not everybody has the dubious luxury of being a hero full-time.

All of that, of course, would only be relevant if Steve would even consider that Tony’s words have a ring of truth to it. Peter is not Spider-Man. He is fifteen and their son. He knows better.

“He’s not Peter,” Steve says, surprised at the uncertainty in his own voice. “We would’ve noticed. Or he would have told us.”

Peter would not keep such a secret from them, surely. Considering their side jobs, they would understand better than any other parent in the city. When Tony’s face does not change and he just waits for Steve to cave, Steve adds, “Our son does not stick to things.”

“Well,” Tony declares and drowns the rest of his coffee in one go, “let’s go home and find out.”

He does not yet get up, though, but keeps staring at Steve, probably waiting for an argument that will allow him to calm down, something that will prove the ridiculousness of his sudden fear.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Steve thinks – but does not come up with anything. “We can’t just storm home and confront him with wild accusations,” he finally says after taking a deep breath. “We have to talk about this.”

Tony nods, knuckles turning white where he clenches his empty mug. “With Peter.”

This whole situation is going to resolve into a misunderstanding made by Tony after another all-nighter or two. There is no way their son is Spider-Man, and they will find out exactly that when they get home.

Still, Steve glances back up at the screen, which has long since changed to some commercial, and then at Tony. Doubt is pooling in his stomach.

Peter has changed – of course, he has, every child changes when it hits puberty, but Peter has gained muscles more than height and his appetite has tripled. In a household like theirs, with one supersoldier to feed and a steady flood of guests coming through, that has not been that obvious, but of course they would notice that Peter could suddenly eat two pizzas in one going and still ask for dessert. He had also begun to withdraw more, which might not be that unusual for a teenager too, but he is not moody, has not stopped talking to them. He is just making himself rare.

“If this is true,” Steve says, wondering how he can ever consider it, “you know it’s our fault.”

Tony’s eyes on him are heavy when he nods, jaw clenched and knuckles growing whiter. When Steve reaches out to pry Tony’s fingers off his mug, Tony clings to his hands for a minute.

“Only one way to find out,” Tony decides. “Take your coffee. We’re going home.”

* * *

  


What Steve has expected to find as they come home is an empty penthouse or perhaps Peter and Ned building another Lego monstrosity in their living room. It is silent when they get out of the elevator, but when Tony asks JARVIS where Peter is, the AI hesitates.

JARVIS never does that, he is programmed not to, especially when it comes to such a simple question. Steve and Tony share a look.

“The young Master is in his room, sir,” JARVIS finally answers. His tone is calm enough, but that does not keep Tony from marching down the hall.

Not bothering to knock, Tony pushes into Peter’s room, only to come to an abrupt stop in the doorway. He is pale and his hands are clenched again, but before Steve can ask, he reaches the room too and freezes.

There is Peter, their fifteen-year-old son, looking like he has just been caught stealing cookies directly out of the jar. His chest is bare, revealing some faint bruises that Steve’s eyes are immediately zeroing in on. Below that, pooling around his hips, is a red and blue suit that looks painfully familiar, considering they have just seen it on a news feed. Completing the picture is Peter’s bag sitting innocently at his feet, the two badges glinting traitorously up at them.

For a moment, none of them moves, much less says anything. The opportunity for Peter to pass this off as a coincidence – this could just be some very formfitting pyjamas – passes unused. 

Instead, Peter swallows audibly, and says, “Hey, Dads.”

That breaks Tony out of his stillness. With a dangerously calm expression, he steps into the room, focused on nothing but Peter.

“And here I was hoping for a _this isn’t what it looks like_ greeting,” he says, ignoring the fact that they would not have believed it.

Steve, on the other hand, is glad that Peter has not tried to lie – of course, they do not actually _know_ anything yet. This could still be something easily explained away. At least until Peter opens his mouth again.

“Would you have believed me?”

That is as good as an admission of guilt. Steve closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, Peter is still standing before them in half of the Spider-Man suit.

No,” Tony snaps, taking another step forward until it looks like they are facing off. “But I have a heart condition, and finding out that my teenage son is running around New York in spandex fighting crime even though he should know better, and then hearing that he doesn’t feel even slightly guilty about it, doesn’t help.”

Tony delivers all of that in a breathless staccato. For once, his hands are very still, hanging by his side like he is not sure whether to clench them or to gesticulate.

Even before Peter speaks, Steve knows he should not have. There is a defiance on his face that Steve knows all too well from Tony, but that has never helped to solve a conflict.

“It’s more like swinging.” Peter sticks out his chin a little, looking from Tony to Steve and back.

“What?” Tony asks, dangerously low.

Steve thinks he should probably step in, but he is busy pushing down the urge to groan. This is escalating quickly. The only good thing about Peter’s forwardness is that it keeps their concentration on his words, not on the far more damning fact of him being Spider-Man in the first place.

“I’m not running,” Peter says slowly, “I’m swinging.”

Later, someone should reward him for his courage. Steve knows it is not going to be either him or Tony.

“You are so grounded until –” Tony begins, voice growing into a growl, but Steve cuts him off.

“How long?” he asks, feeling unnaturally calm. The panic and the fear will come later, he knows, but one of them has to hold onto his objectiveness for the time being.

“I was just getting to that,” Tony snaps, looking over his shoulder to glare at Steve.

Stepping forward, Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean Peter. How long?”

Peter looks much less certain in the face of Steve’s calm. “About a year,” he replies and pauses as if he expects the shouting to finally begin. Tony does bluster, but Steve gestures for Peter to continue. “It was an accident during a school trip to the Roxxon lab. I –” He shrugs, looking far younger than his fifteen years. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That hits Steve hard. He thought they were the kind of family that could talk about everything. How afraid Peter must have been, coming home after an _accident_ – whatever that means – and not feeling safe enough to talk about it.

“So you decided not to tell us at all,” Steve says. Mostly to himself he adds, “Great, I see where you got your common sense from.”

Immediately, Tony whirls around to him. “Don’t put this on me.”

That was not Steve’s intention at all, but the thoughts are racing through his mind and he can hardly imagine how much worse it must be for Tony, who is used to thinking in numbers and likely has already made a mental list of all the sightings, enemies and recorded wounds Spider-Man has gathered since he first appeared, all put in relation to the miniscule changes they did not notice happening with their own son. Or which they did notice and wrote off as normal.

“You were flying around as Iron Man too without telling anyone,” Steve argues. He does not put any heat into his voice, because he is not actually interested in arguing with Tony. It is better if _he_ draws Tony’s anger for now, though, to give Peter some breathing space. They do need to talk about this, but not while everybody is agitated.

“Yes, but I wasn’t a teenager,” Tony emphasizes that as if it physically hurts him, “and I didn’t have parents who are the living examples that this life is dangerous.”

“But you did it with a heart condition, as you like to remind us.” They have had this argument before, several times, and it will soon burn out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Peter beginning to move slowly towards the door. He does not think Peter is going to run away, so he lets him go.

“That is completely diff-” Tony cuts himself off when he realizes what is going on. “And where do you think you’re going?” He glares at the both of them, clearly knowing what Steve has been doing.

“Erm,” Peter splutters, looking at Steve for help, who simply shrugs. He is angry too, and disappointed. “Shower?”

To both their surprise, Tony nods. “Good idea. You’re reeking.” Then, with a sharpness that cuts, he adds, “Leave the suit.”

Time comes to a standstill as Peter first pales, wide-eyed and looking like he is going to start shaking any moment now, and then squares his shoulders. “I’m not going to do that.”

In the safety of his mind, Steve can admit that he is impressed. Few people stand before a livid Tony Stark and tell him no. Even fewer people can get away with it, of course.

“That wasn’t a request,” Tony snaps and holds out his hand as if he expects to receive the suit right now.

“If you take it away,” Peter says with deceptive calm, “I’ll be going out without it.”

And Steve, despite it being completely inappropriate, is proud of Peter. More so than with going out in the first place to help people, this answer proves that he definitely is Tony and his son. If someone dared to take Ton’s suits away, he would built something better and make them pay for it. If someone took Steve’s shield, he would not let that keep him from doing the right thing.

At his side, Tony’s tense form crumbles a bit, and Steve knows that he is thinking the same thing, even though he is not going to give in that easily.

“Not if you’re not ever going to leave your room again.”

Despite himself, Steve has to grin at Tony’s grumbling tone. There is still fury there, but also grudging respect.

“You can’t –”

“Peter,” Steve says firmly, interrupting before Tony’s mood sours again. “You’re fifteen. We need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Peter snaps and sounds more than ever like a teenager. “I have abilities. If you can do what I can but you don’t and then bad things happen, that’s on me.” That sounds practiced enough to betray that Peter actually has thought about telling them, has readied arguments for himself, and then has still not found the courage to actually talk to them. “That’s why you go out, right? Because you _can_ and because it’s the right thing to do.”

Steve shares an uncomfortable look with Tony. Of course, they go out because it is right. They are the Avengers because the world was in danger and they were there to step up. Worse, Steve wanted to help before he had the ability to do so.

“Tony’s right,” Steve says calmly, “you’re still young. And we’re not going out on our own. We always have backup.” That is not working. Steve sees Peter’s frustration and therefore is willingness to argue increase further. With a silent sigh, he changes course. “What if you didn’t come home one night because you weren’t prepared enough?”

“I’m –” Peter protests immediately, but Steve cuts him off, needing to make his point first.

“Then because of an accident. Those happen, abilities have nothing to do with that.” He does not actually want to argue about Peter’s abilities, especially since he does not know much about them yet. “We might never know what happened to you or find out about you being Spider-Man only when they find your body.”

At this, Peter winces slightly, although his shoulders never lose their tension.

“You’re our son,” Steve intones with some pleading. “If something happens to _you_, that’s on us. And we’d never forgive ourselves if we lost you.”

Next to him, Tony nods firmly. For a long moment, Peter simply looks at them, face open and yet unreadable. Then, thankfully, he slumps, eyes dropping to the ground.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

That is another thing they have to talk about because Peter should not be too scared or nervous to come to them with anything. Before Steve can say anything, Tony sets them several steps back again, as he does.

“How about ‘hey dad, pops, I can stick to things now. What are we going to do about that?’”

Tony’s entire body is still thrumming with tension, but Steve does not dare to reach out and put an arm around his husband’s shoulders. He fears that would look too much like they are uniting against Peter. That is the last thing that is going to help.

“It’s not yours to do anything about,” Peter snaps, although he sounds much less agitated than just a few minutes ago. “These are my abilities. My responsibility.”

Just barely, Steve can keep himself from turning towards Tony. That sounds suspiciously like his husband reasoning why it has to be him going after the last of his weapons. They have a lot of good traits to pass on to their son. It would have been nice if their stubbornness would not have been one of them.

“And you’re ours,” Tony says, sounding like he does not expect another argument to come after this.

“You’re a good kid, Peter,” Steve hurriedly adds before those two can begin to lash out at each other. “We’re not saying you should stop being Spider-Man forever –”

“We aren’t?” Tony throws in, looking up at Steve incredulous.

“But talk to us,” Steve continues, ignoring Tony’s argument. “Don’t do this alone.”

Truth be told, Steve would prefer to keep Peter under close watch from now on, to make sure he is protected to the best of their ability when he is going out. Because he _will_ be going out, there is no doubt about that. The best day can do, is offer Peter their help and sneak in some extra measures without appearing too overbearing. The parent in Steve, however, struggles to accept that.

After an eternity, Peter nods tersely, looking like he knows this is not yet over by far.

Taking a step forward, Tony holds out his hand. “Now, give me the suit.”

“No,” Peter all but yells and Steve silently echoes the word inside his head. This is still not the right way to go about this.

Then, though, Steve notices that Tony is drumming some pattern on his leg with his fingers instead of holding them still at his side. That is a good sign. It means that Tony is thinking the way he does about projects.

“Peter,” Steve says sternly, trusting Tony to do the right thing. “Do what your Dad says. He needs to have a look at the suit to see how he can make it safer for you.”

To his surprise, Tony does not even twitch. “Yes,” he says. Much quieter, he adds, “After I’ve locked it up and waited until you’re at least thirty to give it back.”

Peter obviously sees the same signs Steve does, because he looks uncertain but not like he is going to continue the fight.

“Dad,” he says slowly, half-pleading, half-warningly.

“Suit, then shower,” Tony orders. “Steve will cook us dinner and then we’ll talk.”

That means that Tony will go directly to the workshop and busy himself there for the next hours until it is dinnertime. Tony is prone to hiding himself away when he is upset, but Steve is going to let it slide this time. It will give all of them enough space to calm down. Perhaps it will give him the opportunity to catch Peter alone before dinner, just to reassure him that this is not something that will drive them apart.

With slow motions, Peter gets out of the suit and, even more reluctantly, hands it over to Tony, almost as if he is giving a part of his soul away. Steve can imagine how it feels, and does not think he would have given anyone his shield like this, not even if there are claiming to have only good intentions.

Pressing the fabric close to his chest, Tony whirls around and heads for the door. Before he leaves the room, though, he turns around again.

“Don’t ever do something like that to us again,” he says sternly, but then the scowl on his face softens. “But we’re proud of you.”

Not waiting for an answer, Tony disappears down the hallway, leaving Steve and Peter to look at each other in silence, unmoving until they hear the doors of the elevator close.

“Are you?” bursts over Peter’s lips, so quickly that it seems he is afraid he will not dare to ask it at all if he waits. “Is he?”

Feeling the conflicted feelings in his chest unknot, Steve steps forward and puts a hand on Peter’s arm. “Of course we are,” he says as firmly as he managed with how his throat constricts. “You know your dad. If at all possible, he’d keep you safely at home until you’re eighty and too old to pose much of a danger to yourself, special abilities or not.”

If at all possible, Steve would do the same. He also remembers how he himself was at that age, or every age really, always looking for the good fight.

“I know several eighty-year-olds who would protest that statement,” Peter says dryly. For the first time since they came into his room, he does not look one look word from jumping out the window and swinging away. “Remember old Stan from the comic book store?”

“You know what I mean,” Steve replies, but he is smiling. “We love you. Come to dinner when you’re ready.”

Steve has not yet managed to turn around, when Peter says, “Love you too.”

That, at least, is something they can always count on.


End file.
